


The First of Many

by engineerleopoldfitz (aching_for_distance), Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Date, Fluff, it had to be done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aching_for_distance/pseuds/engineerleopoldfitz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katie and I were challenged to write something with no angst. None. At all. (It's like y'all know how much we like to torment the Science Babies in our AU's!)</p><p>So here we go... a SciOps era AU of FitzSimmons' first date. </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First of Many

Click. Click. Click. Click. 

Jemma’s heels tapped out a staccato pattern of steady, unwavering taps on the hardwood floors. Almost deadly in their perfectly even precision, she marched through the common areas of the old apartment building and onto the ancient but well-maintained elevator that serviced the building. Pulling the gate shut behind her, she idly wondered - as always - how the thing was even up to code, but Fitz had worked with the landlord and looked at the mechanics and ensured her it was probably less likely to malfunction than a modern unit. 

If there was one thing guaranteed to irritate her, it was being treated as though her age and (or) gender somehow made her less than her male peers. It was easier when Fitz was with her - most everyone at SciOps had long since realized that if Jemma didn’t address a slight, Fitz would. Most people had stopped knowingly irritating the Scot, given his flares of temper. It wasn’t fair that as a woman Jemma couldn’t display the same emotions without further branding herself as a bitch, a troublemaker or a harpy, but there it was. Life wasn’t fair, and since Jemma would like to keep her job, biting her tongue was a commonplace occurrence. 

In this particular case, she’d been asked to consult on a project and found the original team was both insulted and offended that a slip of a barely twenty-something biochemist had been called in. She’d found three potential solutions to their problem within two hours and walked out when they unanimously declared her ideas to be useless and uninformed. An email to her supervisor and theirs had carefully omitted any mention of the discourtesy, only the notation that she’d provided them with guidance and left the project in their hands to be completed. It was barely satisfactory to know they’d have to use her advice whether they liked it or not. 

The clicks of her heels picked up again in the 11th floor hallway, all the way to the end of the building and the enormous two-bedroom flat she shared with Fitz. The utility bills were a nightmare and it wasn’t posh by any means, but the amount of space - and the freedom to paint, build and muck up - was worth it. Jemma fought with the lock for a minute before she could get in, dropping her bag and stepping out of her heels first thing. “Fitz? Fitz! Where are you?” 

The engineer was so distracted by the smoking pan before him that he didn’t hear his roommate calling for him. “Bloody hell! This fuckin’-” Snatching up a nearby tea towel, he beat at the pan until the smoke stopped, scowling in disgust at the now-burnt layer of olive oil in the bottom of it. So much for his attempt at cooking dinner for the evening. Annoyed with himself - his day had been going perfectly well until he’d turned his back for a second, only to find a disaster on the stove when he’d turned back - Fitz practically threw the pan into the sink with a near-deafening clatter. 

Only once the racket subsided did the engineer sense the presence behind him, and turned to face his roommate. The glare Jemma leveled at him and the smoky air lingering around the kitchen could have peeled paint, and Fitz’ eyes went wide as he took her in. He knew she’d been consulting over the past two days, and from the conversations they’d had over dinner, he also knew that the team had been less than receptive to Jemma’s feedback. She’d handled it in her usual way, pasting on a sunny smile and making polite, yet pointed, suggestions, but it was clearly wearing on her. 

He opened his mouth, jaw working for a moment or two before he managed to stammer out, “J-Jemma. Hi. I jus’- I know i’s my turn t’ make dinner, so I was jus’ tryin’ t’-” 

Jemma’s hand came up, palm out, forestalling an explanation she didn’t want to hear. Fitz wasn’t a total disaster in the kitchen, but he was easily distracted and tended to forget things unless he was kept on track. It wasn’t the first time he’d burned something, it wouldn’t be the last and it didn’t do either of them a bit of good to even try to harp on him for it. Especially not when she was in this mood and likely to lose her temper and make little sense in her ranting. “I am going to take a very long, very hot and probably very bubbly bath. Just don’t let me find any evidence of this by the time I get out,” she said sternly, pinning him with another look. 

She turned on her heel, her now-bare feet padding silently on their hardwoods and the area rugs scattered over it. Within minutes Jemma had collected her robe and a caddy she kept in her room with her more relaxing bath goodies. Candles, scented Epsom salts, bubble bath, body scrub, face mask… These were the things Jemma pulled out when she needed a spa day. Or had simply had a day from hell and needed to decompress, like right now. 

A faint haze of smoke was still lingering in the air along with the scent of burned chicken when Jemma returned to the bathroom, and she turned on the exhaust fan after closing herself in, clearing the air in the small room before she lit her own candles. The jasmine and tea scent quickly took over and it wasn’t long before Jemma was tucked into the big, claw-footed tub with water and bubbles up to her chin. Her head tipped back against the warmed porcelain and her eyes drifted shut. She wasn’t perfect yet, but given some time to let go of the day, she would be. 

Fitz had frozen as he listened to Jemma speak, recognizing the tone she was using as one that he wouldn’t dare to trifle with. He watched as she spun and strode out of the room, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before springing into action. 

First he focused on the kitchen, opening a window to clear out the lingering haze before scrubbing the burnt-on oil-garlic-and-chicken mess from the pan and cleaning the stove top. The tea towel, stained and scorched beyond saving, went into the bin while the bits of vegetables he’d intended for their meal went into ziplock bags and into the crisper drawer. Glancing around, Fitz was satisfied that the kitchen was cleaned to Jemma’s standard, and the smoke had cleared, but the scent of charring meat still permeated the area. 

Reaching into one of the several utility drawers they had in the kitchen, Fitz found the matches and lit one of the lemon verbena candles Jemma had tucked away in the kitchen, hoping it would be enough to finish the job he’d started. 

Focusing on Jemma came next. Fitz hadn’t spent two years living with the biochemist without learning her moods, and what he could do to help her find her baseline without stepping on her toes. Reaching into the wine rack kept beneath the island, he fetched a bottle of Santa Margherita pinot grigio and poured a generous glass. Leaving the bottle on the island counter, Fitz carefully carried the drink down the hall and knocked softly on the bathroom door. 

“Jemma?” he called out. “I have somethin’ for you. Pull th’ curtain for a momen’?” 

Jemma glanced over at the door, one eye cracking open. With an irritated little huff she leaned up and caught the edge of the curtain, drawing it over enough to maintain her modesty but let her see Fitz when he came in. Sharing a bathroom, it had happened now and then that one of them had to interrupt baths or showers. While it wasn’t ideal at the moment, she was curious about Fitz’ phrasing. What did he have? 

“Come in,” she called out, and Jemma spotted the wine immediately, the bowl of the wine glass cupped in Fitz’ broad palm. God, he knew her so well, she mused, reaching up for the golden liquid. It was probably the pinot grigio she’d been saving, but at the moment she didn’t much care. A drink would help wash away the lingering stress and tension. “Thanks, Fitz,” she murmured, setting her nose at the rim of the glass and taking a tentative sniff. “I owe you one for this.” 

He gave her a quick, charming grin before glancing away and stepping back toward the door, not wanting to intrude on her space when Jemma clearly had wanted to relax on her own. The glass of wine had bought him a few minutes grace time, true, but he didn’t want to take advantage of that. Besides, he still he still had other concerns to worry about, as his grumbling stomach was reminding him. 

“You walked into a bloody disaster after wha’ I’ll assume was a hell of a day. I think we’re even.” He flashed her another quick grin and stepped into the hall, his hand on the door to swing it shut behind him, before turning back to Jemma. “I’ve given up on cookin’ tonigh’. ‘M in th’ mood for th’ Italian deli down th’ block. Any special requests, or jus’ th’ usual? My treat.” 

She’d never been able to resist that grin, and a little more of her grouchiness eased as he flashed it at her and offered to get dinner. “Mmm. The caprese salad, and that panini I liked last time - the one with the sausage and marinara,” Jemma said after a moment’s consideration. “And tonight calls for cannoli.” She generally tried to avoid eating too much junk, but at least the cannoli were handmade and relatively unprocessed. There were worse things, she justified. Besides, the alcohol she was going to imbibe wasn’t healthy either. 

Fitz nodded and disappeared, quietly shutting the door behind him and Jemma relaxed again, trying a meditation exercise she’d picked up in Uni to block out external distractions and refocus. The deli Fitz was going to was popular and made things from scratch. She had plenty of time to finish her bath and pamper herself a bit before he’d be back and Jemma did just that. Once the water ran cold, she dragged herself out of the tub, dried off and wrapped herself in the short, silky robe she’d splurged on months ago. The deep red-violet color suited her and the texture simply felt good against her skin. 

By the time Fitz returned, Jemma had been to her room and added knickers, bra and yoga shorts to the ensemble, feeling much more human. She’d checked the kitchen, nodding approvingly at his cleanup and then tucking in on the big squishy chair in the living room. The biochemist had just tipped back into the cushions when she heard the jingle of Fitz’ keys against the door frame. 

Juggling the bags of food along with the bottle of sangiovese he’d bought for himself, Fitz let himself in, taking care not to allow the door to bang back into the wall. The last time that had happened, he’d spent his free time patching the wall, an experience he could certainly do without reliving. “Jem!” he called as he caught sight of her in the living room. “Food’s on. Come ge’ your plate.”

Ducking into the kitchen, he moved quickly, pulling down two plates and dishing out food. He’d ordered double the caprese, knowing Jemma would yell at him if he didn’t have something that could at least be labeled “salad” before him, and arranged equal portions on both their plates. Jemma came in as he finished, the eye-catching color of her robe drawing his attention from the food momentarily. Usually on a night in, Jemma was happy in yoga pants and an old shirt. If she was wearing her silk robe, it had been a particularly bad day; hopefully, it also meant that she was now feeling better. 

They worked as well together at home as they did in the lab, and before long they each had a plate and a glass of wine. “Where to?” Fitz asked, a plate piled high with salad and spaghetti bolognese balanced in one hand and a ruby red glass of wine in the other. “TV or table?”

“Table,” Jemma said immediately. Italian - even her panini - was too potentially messy for eating on the couch in front of the TV. Getting marinara down the front of her robe and ruining it would do absolutely nothing for her mood. She slid into a chair at the table, a junk shop find that had needed quite a lot of TLC when Jemma originally found it. Fitz had come to look and make sure he could make it useable again before she bought it, but the end result was a lovely, hand-stained and sealed antique dining set for about a hundred dollars and a dozen hours of labor. 

She popped back up again to fetch her own wineglass, bringing the open bottles of pinot grigio and sangiovese over to the table with her when she returned. “We might need these,” Jemma said, wrinkling her nose. Pouring herself another glass, she held it up to tap against Fitz’ glass of red wine. “To finally washing my hands of those sexist arseholes. May they stay out of my way.” 

Fitz inclined his head in her direction, brow arched as he brought his glass to meet hers, then up to his lips to take a healthy sip. Apparently the group Jemma had been consulting with had been stupid enough to make the same mistake so many others had: underestimating her and discounting her advice simply because she was female. Idiots. His partner was one of the smartest members of the SciOps research and development team, and as far as he was concerned, anyone who was foolish enough to ignore her advice deserved a pink slip. 

Swallowing his mouthful, Fitz set his glass down next to his plate and reached for his fork. Using the edge, he cut himself a bite-sized chunk of tomato and mozzarella and glanced over at Jemma. “Somethin’ tells me tha’ they’ll think again before pissin’ you off, lass.” He popped the forkful into his mouth and sat back to chew, his expression clearly amused. It might not be the best impulse, but he always liked watching the fallout from her version of revenge. Jemma was far more subtle than he, and watching it play out was a thing of beauty. “Do I even wan’ t’ know wha’ moronic thing they said?”

“Mm. The usual rot about being female and too young to know what I’m talking about,” Jemma said, shrugging off the commentary she’d gotten. “And I was restraining myself from putting them too firmly in their places. I finally got fed up this afternoon and stopped trying to lead them to a solution. I gave them four, all of which were solidly rejected.” 

She took a bite of her sandwich, savoring the perfect crunch on the thick bread along with the spicy sausage and marinara and melted cheese, before continuing to the punchline. Jemma knew as well as Fitz did that she rarely let behavior like that slide altogether. “I didn’t waste my breath arguing. I forwarded a report to Agent Cardall and to their supervisor, Agent Sullivan, with the details of my proposed solutions. I also indicated that I’d left the group to choose between them and I will be returning to our lab full-time as of tomorrow morning.” 

A mischievous smile quirked at the corners of Jemma’s mouth. “I do rather wish I could be a fly on the wall when they try to explain whatever they come up with to Agent Sullivan and why they’re ignoring my recommendations.” 

The twinkle in Jemma’s eye caused him to chuckle, as well as feel supremely thankful that he had never goaded her vindictive side. Fitz knew he’d certainly come close a few times, particularly early in their friendship, but thankfully even at 17 he’d been sharp enough to keep on the biochemist’s good side. 

“If they’re smar’, they willnae dream o’ ignorin’ your suggestions,” he mumbled as he shoveled what seemed like half his pasta into his mouth and chewed. “In fac’, if they have any sense o’ self-preservation an’ wan’ t’ keep their jobs, they’ll close their eyes, pick a solution, and ge’ started tonigh’. Bu’... if you really wanted t’ see th’ show, ‘m sure I could hack into their security feed easily enough. No sound, bu’ we’d ge’ th’ general idea.”

Telling Fitz what happened brought the anger bubbling back up into Jemma’s chest, and she hurriedly drained half her glass of wine in hopes the alcohol would help push it back down. Jemma couldn’t afford to let every sexist, backward thinking jerk at SHIELD upset her, and she didn’t want to ruin the dinner that Fitz had been kind enough to fetch for them. Even his humorous comment about hacking their security feed didn’t help and Jemma let out a huff. 

“No more talk about that,” she said firmly. “It’s over and done and I’ll tell Cardall what he can do if he even thinks about suggesting I go back over there.” Even after dinner though, Jemma could still feel the upset lurking and it took her a long while before she moved from the table and into the living room. She ended up sitting on the floor in front of the couch, her side pressed up against Fitz’ leg where he sat in his usual spot. 

Jemma spent most of an episode of some show Fitz chose at random carefully stretching, trying to combat her body’s attempts to tense back up and ruin her earlier work with the bath and slipping into her robe. Another glass or two of wine assisted her efforts, but it wasn’t until she felt Fitz’ fingers slip into her hair that Jemma gave up on struggling alone. She tipped her head to lean against his knee and sighed. “Oh. Keep doing that,” Jemma urged. 

Fitz’ grin was loopy, fueled by three large glasses of wine, but he obligingly kept the fingers of his free hand moving through Jemma’s curls, although his movements were not as precise as they might have been a few hours prior. He’d lost interest in the program long ago, the alcohol keeping him from being able to maintain any kind of focus, and with Jemma fidgeting next to him, he hadn’t been able to resist. He watched as she sagged against him, allowing his leg to keep her mostly upright, and drained his glass as another idea occurred to him. 

“Sit up.” The order and the nudge of his knee that went along with it were both gentle, and Fitz leaned forward to set glass on the coffee table. Using a hand between her shoulder blades, he got Jemma to lean forward just enough so he could comfortably shift behind her on the sofa. With her sitting in the space between his knees, and with both of his hands now free, the Scot put both of his hands to work, starting with the nape of Jemma’s neck and slowly working their way out over her shoulders, humming a bit as he went about it. 

“You migh’ wan’ t’ move up here when we’re done,” he suggested, almost absentmindedly. “I wonder if you’re no’ knottin’ back up because you’re on th’ floor.” 

Jemma let out a whine of protest when Fitz withdrew from her, and a second one when he asked her to move. It wasn’t until she complied and then found his hands laid over her neck and shoulders that she happily subsided and relaxed into his attention. Drawing her knees up, Jemma tipped forward a little to lay her head on her folded arms, her hair falling forward over her shoulder and out of Fitz’ way. 

“I keep knotting back up because I keep thinking about some of the idiocy that was spouted at me today,” Jemma grumbled. “But I’ll come up there anyway.” 

When Fitz was done, Jemma did just that, fumbling for the remote and turning the TV off, leaving the room shadowed and dim, only half lit by what little light trickled from the kitchen out into the living room. Hovering on the line between buzzed and drunk on wine, feeling soft and cuddly and relaxed, she stretched out next to Fitz and laid her head in his lap. It struck her then, not for the first time, that he was sweet when he put his mind to it, and attentive. His attention to details in the lab definitely carried over to his dealings with her. 

No one else might believe it, but the prickly Scot would make some lucky girl an excellent boyfriend. Even more of a surprise was Jemma’s instant rejection of that idea. Mine. It snuck into her head and made her realize with a start that she might actually want to date her best friend. It wasn’t even such a foreign concept - Jemma had noticed Fitz and considered asking him out at the Academy, but then they’d been assigned as partners and Jemma decided to wait until the end of the semester in case things got awkward… But by the end of the semester they’d become such friends that she’d sort of slowly forgotten about her original intent. 

“Why haven’t we ever gone on a date? Everyone already thinks we’re together anyway. Have you ever… thought about that?” Jemma asked, peering up at him, hazel eyes wide and bright and curious. 

“Hmm?” Jemma’s question caught him entirely off guard. He’d been distracted, both by playing with her hair (how did she keep it so soft?) and the sight of her legs stretched out down the length of the sofa (were those soft, too?), and it took him a moment for his brain to catch up. 

“You mean, have I noticed tha’ you’re a girl? An’ an attractive girl a’ tha’?” 

The teasing words tumbled across his lips, helped along by the alcohol and the general affection he felt for his best friend at the moment. There was no one who meant more to him than Jemma, and Fitz liked that they could sit here like this, simply relaxing after a long day at work. The truth of the matter was he had noticed Jemma before, right from the start of his time at the Academy. He frowned briefly as he tried to remember why it was he’d never gotten around to asking her out - it wasn’t as though he had a problem approaching women - only to discover that he couldn’t remember through the haze of red wine. 

“Yeah, Jem, i’ migh’ have come t’ my attention a time or two.” He smiled down at her, enjoying the faint blush he could see blooming on her cheeks. This was a side of Jemma he didn’t usually get to see, and he was enjoying the opportunity. 

The blush was a result of catching Fitz’ blue eyes sweep down her body and back once he realized what she was asking, and it deepened further when he complimented her. Jemma’s smile and tone immediately turned teasing, pleased and flattered and curious. “So why didn’t you, you berk?” 

She tipped over onto her back, looking up at him from where her head was still perched on Fitz’ thigh. “Seriously, why not? It’s not like I’ve never noticed you, either. People really do think we’re together already and look at us…” Jemma gestured vaguely at the way they were tucked in on the couch together. “Maybe we’re being silly. Insisting we’re just friends, I mean.” 

Jemma was feeling less buzzed by the second, and more serious as she realized she actually wanted this. Wanted Fitz’ attention and time and care focused on her for real and not just incidentally because she was his best friend and they lived together. The possibility of sex with Fitz also flashed into her head, reminding her of just how fascinated she’d always been by his hands… Shivering at the thought of what they could do to her, Jemma’s gaze dropped, feeling a little shy at this sudden and unexpected shift. She fiddled with the hem of his shirt for a moment before looking back up at him through her lashes. “How would you feel about going on a date with me?” 

Fitz had never known Jemma to be shy. She knew she was attractive - there were always enough men flirting with her - but even as he came out of his buzz there was no way he could possibly doubt that was what he was seeing. How else could he explain the way her eyes shifted away from his, or the nervous picking of her fingers at his shirt? Even more surprising, he found it charming, and without thinking he tangled his fingers with hers and brought their hands to rest over her stomach. 

“I would very much like t’ take you on a date, Jemma.” It was the truth. Even if all it wound up being was an interesting experiment, he knew he liked spending time with her. There was no real downside here; worst case scenario, he spent a nice evening out with his best friend, best case… well, he might be going home with a girlfriend to boot. “Jus’ t’ be clear, who’s askin’ whom? For plannin’ purposes, I mean.”

Relieved by Fitz’ easy acceptance, Jemma’s smile returned. It was still a little shy, but all the sweeter for that, and she gave his fingers a squeeze where he’d twined them together with hers. It only took a moment’s consideration to come up with an answer to his question, giving them both something to think about. “Well, we’re both sort of agreeing, not exactly asking, so why don’t we each take on something. You plan for a meal and I’ll plan for something to do after?” 

Her mind was already whirling through ideas and possibilities and trying to think of things they’d both enjoy that they hadn’t done yet. Nothing immediately sprang to mind, but if there was one thing Jemma excelled at when it came to most things, especially dating, it was preparation. Which also reminded her that if she was going on a date with Fitz, she needed to go shopping. He’d already seen just about everything in her closet she’d wear on a date and Jemma felt like this deserved something special. If this worked out… It was likely incredibly premature, but Jemma could easily see spending the rest of her life with him and she wanted this first official date to be memorable. 

Excitement began to bloom in Fitz’ gut and continued to grow the longer the idea of a date with Jemma rolled around his head. He was by no means a first date rookie, and while he believed his plans had all been above average for those, this one needed to be outstanding. His best friend deserved nothing less. Fitz began running through a list of the nicer restaurants he knew in the area. Most were in the city, but that wouldn’t be a problem. 

“Friday nigh’, then?” he asked, brow quirked at Jemma. Fitz figured that two nights should be enough to put everything in place, and truth be told, he didn’t really want to wait for Saturday. Knowing them, if they waited for Saturday, having an entire day off of work would leave them too wound up to properly relax. This way, after a full day of work, they’d be able to distract themselves at least a bit. Fitz allowed his eyes to skim over Jemma once more, catching his lower lip between his teeth once his gaze landed on her thighs, and he found himself forced to reevaluate his likely level of distraction this week. 

Giving himself a little shake, Fitz reminded himself to not get too far ahead of himself. Just because he was relatively certain that he’d enjoy their date and subsequently want more didn’t mean Jemma was on the same page. This was something he had to take one step at a time. 

Jemma nodded in reply, pleased that he’d picked Friday rather than Saturday, her thoughts unknowingly following many of the same lines his did. “Done,” she agreed. “Although that means you’re not allowed to fuss if I leave the lab a bit early that day to get ready.” Giving him an affectionate little poke in the side, Jemma made it clear she was teasing. Fitz had gotten grumpy with her now and then when she’d left early to go on dates with other men. He certainly wasn’t allowed to when she was getting ready to go out with him. 

Feeling warm and affectionate and a bit hopeful, Jemma pushed up from where she was lounging across the couch. Scooting closer to Fitz, her hip pressed against his thigh and her bent knees pressed against the back of the couch. Jemma leaned in, curling her arms around him as best she could and laying her head on his shoulder to hug him close. The angle was a bit awkward, but once she relaxed, giving her body the okay to do so, it was more comfortable. And as always, Fitz’ warmth drew her like a moth to flame, encouraging her to stay. 

Even though the wine had mostly worked its way out of his system, it left him feeling loose enough to chuckle at her gentle teasing. For someone like Fitz, it wasn’t easy to laugh at himself. Far too many people had teased him when he was younger to take it lightly, but from Jemma it didn’t feel mean spirited. That simply wasn’t in her nature. 

His arms wrapped around her easily, palms spread wide on her back as he did his best to pull her even closer. “I’ve seen th’ results when you leave early for a date nigh’. Trus’ me, it willnae be a problem. Migh’ even work in my favor. Wit’ you gettin’ ready here, I’ll ge’ dressed a’ work.” Jemma lifted her head from his shoulder at that, shooting him a quizzical look that only earned a small shrug from Fitz. “We wan’ a proper date, righ’? Well, tha’ means pickin’ you up. So, I’ll ge’ ready a’ th’ lab an’ pick you up here a’ 7. Sound good?” 

Jemma laughed softly at Fitz’ words and nodded. If he wanted to take ‘proper date’ to that level, she wasn’t going to complain. Especially not if it meant she got to truly surprise him with whatever she bought to wear that night. It struck her then that she only had two evenings to go shopping and find something appropriate. Ah well. She’d always enjoyed a challenge. 

Late on Friday afternoon Jemma started cleaning up her lab bench, pleased that she’d reached a good stopping point and didn’t feel like she was disrupting anything by skipping out early. Once all her glassware was put in the sterilizer and her samples stored away, the bench wiped down and clear, Jemma grabbed her bag and sidled over to Fitz. “See you in a couple hours,” she said, a soft smile on her face. 

By 5:30 she was at home, and by 6:45 Jemma was fidgeting from a bit of nerves, but more excitement and anticipation. She’d found a dress, short and soft and flowy, with a really feminine floral print, but paired it with a cropped black jacket and tall, strappy wedges. Her makeup had a similar contrast, with bold eyes and soft pink on her lips, and Jemma had left her hair simple, pinned back from her face but spilling down her back in loose curls. Jemma checked and then double checked the little cross-body bag she was bringing and fussed in the mirror right up until Fitz knocked on the door at 6:58, hurrying out and swinging the door open with another shy smile and a murmured, “Hi, Fitz.” 

Fitz had only worked a few minutes longer than Jemma, waiting only until he got to an ideal stopping point before slipping down to the locker rooms to shower and get ready. He stood before the mirror for quite a while, towel wrapped around his waist, as he debated whether or not he wanted to shave. He ran a hand over his jaw as he considered the question, trying to remember if he’d ever heard Jemma express a preference. Ultimately, he decided against it, stowing his razor in favor of tugging on a pair of dark, fitted jeans, along with a white button down and blue tie. 

A black vest finished his look, and after rolling his sleeves to the elbow and lacing up his dress shoes, Fitz hurried out of the SciOps facility. It was a 15 minute walk back to their flat, and he had left himself 25, plenty of time for him to stop at a nearby flower stand to surprise Jemma. 

He had stopped to take a deep breath before he’d knocked in an attempt to calm his jittery nerves, but even that didn’t prepare him for the sight of Jemma when their door swung open. It was far from the suave opening he’d planned, what with the way Fitz’ jaw gaped open as he drank her in, but he couldn’t help it. She looked fantastic, and it took him a long moment before he could even hold up the red tulips he’d bought her. 

“For you,” he needlessly explained, smiling and taking a step forward. At the last minute he impulsively decided to lean in and kiss her cheek, giving Jemma a shy smile as he did so. “D’ you wan’ t’ put those in water before we go?” 

He’d brought flowers. Jemma hadn’t expected it and thus hadn’t defended herself, her heart pattering in her chest as she reached to take the bouquet of flowers from him. The deep red tulips were gorgeous without being overdone - roses felt too awkward for a first date, even though this wasn’t exactly a traditional one to start with. The little kiss on her cheek was unexpected, too, and Jemma found herself relaxing almost instantly at Fitz’ reaction to her. 

“Oh. Yes. Let me find... ” Jemma said once she’d recovered from her surprise. She stepped back to let him into their apartment, puttering around for a few minutes until she found the blue glass vase she wanted. A moment or two to fill it and fuss with the flowers and she was able to set the lot in the middle of the kitchen table, standing back to admire the contrast of the red flowers, greenery and deep blue glass. “They’re beautiful, Fitz. Thank you,” she said, realizing she’d forgotten in her distraction. 

Fitz took advantage of her distraction, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the doorframe as he used the opportunity to admire her at his leisure while she hunted for the vase. He was fairly certain he’d seen all of Jemma’s closet, but had never seen this particular outfit. That meant she’d gone shopping specifically for their date. It may have been foolish male pride, but he couldn’t help puffing up a bit at the idea she’d dressed specifically for him, and it left him with a silly grin on his face. 

“You’re welcome. I wasnae sure wha’ you’d like, bu’ I saw those an’, well, they jus’ seemed kind o’ perfec’.” Pulling his hands from his pockets, Fitz straightened himself and glanced at the clock before reaching a hand out to her. “C’mon. We’d better ge’ a move on, or we’ll miss our reservation.”

It took them a train and two buses, but eventually the pair found themselves in Fisherman’s Wharf. When they’d first moved to San Francisco, both of them had avoided the area like a plague, wanting to really live in the city instead of merely falling into the tourist traps. To date, that plan had worked fairly well, but when he’d been looking for somewhere to take Jemma, he’d found himself coming back to the idea of eating on the waterfront, and he’d eventually succumbed to that impulse. Which was how they found themselves standing outside Alioto’s, tourists milling around them as Fitz carefully folded his hand around Jemma’s and tugged her toward the stairs that lead to the upstairs restaurant. 

“This way,” he insisted, taking a few steps forward only to halt when he felt that Jemma wasn’t moving with him. Looking back, he cocked his head questioningly and asked, “Jem? Is somethin’ wrong?”

Jemma hesitated when Fitz guided her toward the door to Alioto’s. Even without having been there before, she knew perfectly well that it was rather pricy for their budgets. To be honest, the rent on their apartment was quite dear, hence all the antiquing and thrift shopping to find things to furnish it. She didn’t want Fitz to go too far overboard with this dating thing and stepped in close to his side, her voice low. “I- Alioto’s? Are you sure? I didn’t mean for you to-” 

His headshake was almost immediate, and Jemma didn’t push, trusting that he knew his own bank account balance and what he could reasonably afford. “Next date is my treat then,” she said firmly, following Fitz up the stairs and into the restaurant. It wasn’t as grand as she’d feared once they got inside and a glance around reassured Jemma that while she and Fitz were a bit younger than many of the patrons, they weren’t underdressed and didn’t look out of place. 

He had braced himself, prepared for Jemma to argue with him about the cost, only to be frozen in his tracks at her next words. “Next date.” Fitz was tempted to pinch himself to be sure he hadn’t imagined it, but didn’t have the time with how quickly she nudged him up the stairs. By the time they were seated at a table that overlooked the water, his shock had given way to elation and all he could do was smile as he watched Jemma peruse the menu. 

It was true that Fitz had wanted tonight to go well. What had started as a spur of the moment, slightly-drunken idea on Tuesday night had snowballed on itself until he found that he was honestly anxious about impressing Jemma, and if he were truthful, a bit more so than he’d been for other dates. The sight of her now, sitting across from him in that little floral sundress only served to reaffirm his nerves. Just then, those big, beautiful hazel eyes of hers flicked up from the menu to look at him, and Fitz found himself blushing as he quickly looked down at his own menu, embarrassed she’d caught him staring. 

“So, um,” he floundered, looking for a distraction, “d’ we wan’ a bottle o’ wine? Or are we tryin’ t’ be good tonigh’?”

Jemma eyed him consideringly. She’d originally had an entirely different plan for the evening after dinner, but then he’d brought them here to the wharf and the Embarcadero. They’d never explored it, preferring less tourist-laden areas of the city, and Jemma made the spur of the moment choice to abandon her original ideas, wanting to be that couple lazily wandering the waterfront area for the evening. It also meant they could walk it off if they got a little tipsy at dinner, rather than trying and failing at an activity of some sort. 

He seemed flustered, and Jemma couldn’t help the soft smile it brought to her face. They’d both grown up quite a bit since they’d first started working together, but every now and then he did something that flashed her back to her memories of that awkward 17 year old boy she’d first met and this was one of them. “Wine sounds good. Do you know what you’re ordering? I was thinking about the chowder and the seafood ravioli,” Jemma mused. Her meal lent itself to white wine, but Fitz might want something different. She’d also deliberately steered herself away from the more expensive options on the menu - thankfully they were also things that didn’t sound especially appetizing to her tonight. 

Fitz hummed as he looked over the menu, acknowledging that he’d heard Jemma. He knew her tastes, had expected her to veer toward white wine, and hadn’t been surprised in the least that her dinner selection had been in line with that. “Leanin’ toward th’ risotto,” he answered, shutting his menu and setting it to the side before reaching for the bread basket and pulling off a still-warm chunk. “Th’ chowder is jus’ a given a’ this poin’.” One of the nicest perks of living in a coastal city was fresh seafood, and Fitz had quickly learned to take advantage of it. 

“White wine i’ is, then. Pick wha’ you think we’ll like bes’, Jemma. I trus’ your judgmen’.” If it were up to Fitz, he’d likely be best off if he simply closed his eyes, pointed at a bottle on the menu and went with it. At least with Jemma choosing, they had a better shot at sharing a nice bottle of wine, instead of something he’d guessed at. 

Jemma grinned and nodded. She suspected Fitz may have picked something at random, but he’d probably like the risotto. She took the separate folder with the wine list, perusing the options and hiding a wince at the pricing. Most of the food was about what she’d expected, but the wines were ridiculous. Fitz had insisted she not worry about it though and she chose accordingly, asking for a chenin blanc from a vineyard she was moderately familiar with. 

Once their orders were in, they fell into conversation and eventually Jemma had to bring up the inevitable question: “It seems rather silly to call this a first date, doesn’t it? Most of the things I’d usually ask someone on a first date, I’ve known about you for years already. It’d probably be easier to ask you to tell me something I don’t know about you.” 

Fitz traced the foot of his glass with his fingertips, considering her statement. The problem was, after years of working and living together, he wasn’t sure there was anything Jemma didn’t already know about him. After all, they had nursed each other through their post-graduation hangovers. After that experience, they had no secrets from each other. Fitz skimmed his fingers up the stem, and cupping the bowl, brought the glass to his lips for a sip, humming as he tried to think. 

“There’s no’ a lot you dinnae already know, Jemma, but… have I ever told you abou’ my family? No’ my mum, you know abou’ her, bu’ my cousins.” 

“No, I know the big things,” Jemma agreed. “And I think you mentioned a cousin once - Michael? Are there more?” She sat back in her seat, cradling her own glass and grinning at him across the table as she crossed her legs and settled in to hear a story. “Were there childhood and teenage shenanigans? I imagine you’ll try to convince me it was always your troublemaking cousins who came up with these plans.” 

Jemma had stories of her own she could share that she was pretty sure she’d never told Fitz about. It wasn’t that she had secrets from him, but that Jemma had such an unusual childhood that there were lots of stories. She also knew Fitz’ family didn’t have a lot and she’d hesitated at first to point out advantages she’d had growing up until she was more secure and felt their friendship was solid. Even so, Jemma felt like her life didn’t really begin until she’d joined SHIELD and arrived at SciTech. Her four years at Uni, whizzing through a degree each year had still been confined, sheltered and monitored because of her age. 

It wasn’t until she’d taken her two PhDs and tried to find a job that she’d made the first step toward being an independent adult and thankfully she’d landed on her feet with SHIELD and with Fitz. In a lot of ways, that was the start of her life and Jemma didn’t think a whole lot about what came before it. 

Fitz leaned forward conspiratorially, elbows propped on the white linen as he grinned across at her. He wasn’t surprised in the least that Jemma already had his number and was so quick to call him on his role in his cousins’ schemes. He had a feeling his acute disappointment over not being able to play pranks on freshmen at the Academy had clued her in to that. 

“Michael, yes, an’ David an’ Rory. Rory was too young, bu’ I go’ on well with David an’ Michael, and th’ three o’ us put a few extra white hairs on my mum’s head. Luckily for her, she was able t’ ge’ me into Uni before we could really cause trouble. She only had t’ pu’ up wit’ us for summer hols.

“Th’ summer Michael an’ I were 14, there was this lass he liked tha’ lived down th’ street. Problem was, her father knew Michael an’ decreed his daughter was t’ go nowhere near him.” Fitz took another sip of wine, drawing out the punchline to his story. “Naturally, Michael was upse’. So, we may have disassembled his car… an’ reassembled i’ in the lof’ o’ a nearby barn. He always though’ i’ was us, bu’ could never prove i’.” 

“Fitz!” Jemma blurted out, giggling in utter surprise and humor. “You took the car completely apart and put it back together at fourteen? How did you get the engine block up there? And - oh god, how did they get it back down?!” She could only imagine the consequences if they’d been caught, even if she was pretty certain the car still ran - probably better than before - after Fitz put it back together. “You boys were far more daring than I ever was, but then I rarely had the chance to get too far away from my parents. Was that the worst thing you ever did?” 

Her smile across the table was warm and affectionate. She’d known there was a bit of a prankster lurking in him, but Fitz had seemed to know - or figured it out fast - that Jemma shouldn’t be a target of them. She didn’t handle surprises or being laughed at very well, especially not from someone she considered a close friend. Still, that didn’t make her any less curious to hear more. 

Knowing how much of a stickler Jemma could be for the rules, Fitz had never even thought to share these stories with her, afraid of her reproach. But, given her laughter, he found himself wanting to tell her more in the hopes of drawing the same reaction from her. 

“I’ sounds a lo’ less impressive when you know my uncle owned a garage. We were all fairly familiar wit’ cars, an’ when you have three determined young men, an’ one o’ them knows how to make pulleys work t’ their advantage… well, th’ engine wasnae much o’ a problem.” He grinned at the memory and reached for the bottle of wine, extending his arm in offering to Jemma. Pouring carefully, he topped off her glass, then his, before continuing. “They hired a construction company t’ take th’ car down, no harm, no foul… well, other than the bill, I suppose. 

“As for ‘wors’,’ tha’ depends on your definition o’ th’ word.” 

Jemma could only shake her head at his continued explanation. “Hm, I see your point. Was that the one that got you into the most trouble? Any near-death experiences?” She was only half-joking with that last question, wanting to know just how daring he’d been. Fitz was so tough to figure out sometimes. 

For all that he was one of the bravest people she knew, there were odd little things - like her biological samples - that completely squicked him out. The scent of formaldehyde in particular, sent him scurrying out of the lab or begging her to create something that would counteract the smells. But it also worried her a bit - just what sort of risky behaviors did he find acceptable? She had a feeling he wouldn’t tell her because he knew she’d fuss. 

She was fairly sure though, in this particular line of conversation, that her own childhood experiences would beat anything he could come up with when it came to stupid, dangerous ideas. There were a lot of warnings a child heard that were abstract - even for a genius-level childhood intellect - until something solidified them. Jemma bit her lip, considering if she really should tell Fitz that story… She supposed it depended on what he confessed next. 

“No, no,” he chuckled, “tha’ one was nothin’, in terms o’ trouble. An’ there may have been a near death experience or two.” Fitz set his glass to the side and leaned back, considering the woman in front of him. Like anyone, he enjoyed talking about himself and having the chance to relive some of his favorite memories; however, he was curious about her, too, and wanted to know what she’d been like as a girl. He knew her family had done a fair bit of traveling when she’d been younger. Doubtless she had her share of stories. 

“I’ll tell you abou’ those, if you wan’, bu’ only after I hear one o’ yours. Wha’ should I know abou’ you tha’ I never heard before?”

“No pranks, I’m afraid,” Jemma said with a wrinkle of her nose. “I traveled with Mum and Dad to their project sites so I was required to be on my best behavior. In a lot of tribal cultures, children are expected to work alongside their parents from a young age, but my parents’ work was sensitive, so I had to be careful not to disturb anything. It was good experience though - I knew how to collect proper samples by the time I was four.” She made another face and shrugged, “It probably sounds terribly boring, but the traveling was exciting. I can actually still speak Swahili pretty fluently, some Spanish and a bit of Arabic and Portuguese.” 

It suddenly felt like it might sound like she was bragging, which was precisely why she rarely talked about her upbringing and Jemma cut herself off sharply. “I think my favorite was Kenya. We were staying on a nature preserve, so there were always things to see. Animals right outside the windows.” 

Fitz could see it in his mind’s eye, a tiny - well, tinier- version of Jemma trailing after her parents as they trudged across the seven continents in search of ancient wonders. The image caused a warm buzz of affection to bubble up within him, and before he could think too much he found himself saying, “Tha’ sounds really nice. You’ll have t’ take me some day. Tha’ is, if you dinnae mind havin’ t’ play tour guide.” It only occurred to him after he said it that his wording might be a bit presumptuous, but he shrugged it off. After living together, it wasn’t as though traveling together was too far a stretch. 

“Why was Kenya your favorite?”

“Nope, your turn,” Jemma said with a shake of her head. “I told you one of the bits of my past. Near-death experience. I’m curious if yours can possibly top mine.” She’d be surprised if it did, but it wasn’t a competition, really. More that Jemma oddly wanted to feel like she wasn’t quite as boring as she felt like she was most of the time. 

The waiter came by to deliver their chowders just then, interrupting the flow of conversation and distracting them both momentarily as they tried their first bites of the thick soup. “Oh. That’s really good,” Jemma murmured. If the rest of the meal was this good, Jemma might have to come back here, regardless of the price. 

Arranging his napkin on his lap, Fitz took the opportunity to observe Jemma. Her eyes had gone a bit wide when she tried the chowder, and her little exclamation left him grinning down at his knees. The online reviews had been positive, but he had still worried a bit that he was taking her somewhere she wouldn’t like. Dipping his own spoon into his cup of chowder, he teasingly arched his brow at her. 

“Should I be concerned tha’ you’re assumin’ I’ve had a near death experience?” Fitz hadn’t missed the implication behind her words, either, and was terribly intrigued as to what had happened to Jemma that would constitute a near death experience. “I’ jus’ so happens tha’ you’re righ’. There was an abandoned warehouse no’ terribly far from my aunt’s house. All kinds o’ catwalks an’ stuff crisscrossin’ all th’ way up t’ the roof. We used t’ like th’ view from there… bu’ those catwalks were pretty rusted. One nigh’, one o’ them began bucklin’ beneath us. We had t’ run for i’.” 

Jemma’s eyes had widened further, and Fitz couldn’t help but chuckle. Being so far removed from the event, he was able to laugh it off. “Honestly, we were jus’ lucky i’ was only th’ three o’ us tha’ nigh’.” 

Jemma was actually rather horrified by Fitz’ recollection, especially since he’d clearly been old enough to know he shouldn’t have been in that place or taking such risks. “That’s horrible. Oh god, I can’t even think about it,” she murmured. Of course, she’d never have known any different, or what she was missing, but Jemma couldn’t imagine if he’d actually gone off and gotten himself killed before she’d ever met him. Although… she couldn’t imagine if he got himself killed now, either. 

She shook off the worry as soon as her mind caught up and registered Fitz’ last statement. Jemma cocked her head, curious, but also wondering if perhaps it was a question she’d be better off not asking. “I thought you said it was just you and your cousins. Who else would have gone up there with you? Was everyone in your neighborhood a little crazy?” 

Fitz had the grace to blush at her question, and nibbled at his lower lip, unsure of how to go about answering her. It wasn’t as though ignoring Jemma was an option. “No, no’ everyone… we, uh. Th’ view was nice. You could see th’ entire city. I’ was a good place t’ take dates.”

It hadn’t taken Fitz and his cousins long to figure out that the mild fright from the climb to the roof made it easier to convince their dates to find the more shadowy corners after a few minutes of admiring the panoramic view. While he wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done - it had never been anything more than fairly standard teenage shenanigans - but for some reason, the idea of Jemma knowing he’d snuck off at night with girls gave him pause. Fitz knew that she had at least a vague idea of his dating history, but it still didn’t seem like the best thing to bring up on a first date. 

She couldn’t help herself. Jemma stared at him for a long moment, her jaw hanging slightly open. She wasn’t even quite sure what to say in response to that, other than reminding herself that Fitz had been young - 14 or 15 - and immature along with it. The response had nothing to do with him dating at that age or what he might have gotten up to with those girls. She doubted Fitz realized just how dangerous it was until that walkway nearly collapsed on them, but still. He was too smart not to know better.

“Well, I do hope you’ve learned better ways to encourage women to sneak off with you for a bit of snogging,” Jemma said eventually, once she’d collected herself and her thoughts. The comment came off rather flirtatiously, which was probably for the best when it came to lightening the conversation up again and a secretive little smile passed over Jemma’s face as she considered that possibility for tonight. She quickly pushed that down though, knowing it was premature. While it was true that Jemma was learning new things about Fitz, they still had a lot of ground to cover. 

Jemma’s initial silence had caused his stomach to roil, and Fitz had been prepared to apologize for saying something inappropriate when he caught her comment about snogging. That left him wide-eyed for an entirely different reason, his spoon poised halfway between his bowl and his mouth for a long moment. His gaze lingered on the curve of Jemma’s lips, and it wasn’t until she cleared her throat that he gathered himself enough to finally bring the spoonful of chowder to his mouth. 

“I’ve a’ leas’ found safer ways,” he conceded. “After th’ scare on th’ catwalk, I never would have though’ t’ bring someone wit’ me. Hell, we never even wen’ back on our own. We were curious, bu’ never had a death wish. Lookin’ back, i’ was stupid, even if we were only tryin’ t’ have fun.” 

Jemma laughed softly and shook her head, “I had my scare much earlier than you did. I think it’s a big part of why I’m so cautious when someone warns me against things.” She’d always been a relatively quiet, rule-abiding child, but Jemma rather thought it made quite an impression on her. “I can laugh about it now, at least, but at the time it was terrifying. We were leaving one assignment, heading for another by boat. To make the story very short, I ended up in the water and rather too close to a pod of hippos. Dad had just fished me out when one of them rammed the boat. I’d rather not think about what would have happened if he hadn’t grabbed me when he did.” 

She shuddered faintly just recounting the story, but it was only a memory from a long time ago and very far away. “Needless to say I don’t think I put another foot out of line when it came to my parents’ warnings for quite some time, especially when they warned me away from the local wildlife. Of course, then they took me to Kenya and charmed me with giraffes that ate from your hands and elephant rides and monkeys playing on the balcony.” 

“Chris’,” he muttered, setting his spoon down with a dull clink on the china as he tried to take in just what, exactly, she was telling him. Fitz found himself regretting all of the times he’d teased Jemma about being too uptight or unwilling to bend the rules a bit. He certainly would have been more buttoned up, too, if he’d had that close a shave before his teen years. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been wandering abandoned buildings late at night. 

Thankfully, though, the hippo hadn’t found its mark, and Jemma’s boat had gotten her safely to her destination. And monkeys. Naturally, Fitz’ brain caught on that, and he pushed his now-empty dish to the side so he could lean in toward her once more. “Did you ge’ t’ feed th’ monkeys, too? Or was tha’ frowned upon?” Fitz had been through one too many of Jemma’s lectures on not altering the natural order too drastically to think she wouldn’t have taken that into consideration, even as a child. 

Glad for the excuse to brush over her own rather serious little tale, Jemma easily picked up Fitz’ enthusiasm about the monkeys and the nature preserve, speaking casually between bites of chowder. “Most of the animals on the preserve were rescues of some sort. You could help feed them if you went down to the conservation center at meal times. They discouraged feeding the animals at other times because of diet restrictions - and they didn’t want the animals to start harassing everyone they came into contact with for food.” 

She finished the last of her chowder with a little sigh of happiness and pushed the plate toward the edge of the table to be picked up later. “You’d like it, I think. And not just for the monkeys. It’s peaceful and mostly quiet. You can learn a lot from the zoologists, although I know that’s not your field by any stretch of the imagination.” 

“Biomechanics is a field for a reason,” Fitz jumped in, sparing a quick smile to the busboy who took their empty dishes. “There’s plenty for someone like me t’ learn a’ a nature preserve… even if i’s jus’ how t’ relax on vacation wit’ a pretty girl.” He met and held Jemma’s gaze, the smile playing on his lips cutting some of the seriousness in his eyes. He wasn’t sure she’d ever believe him, but he had always found Jemma attractive, and he was beginning to think the biggest mistake he’d ever made was not telling her before she’d brought it up the other night. 

It might have been indulgent, but he took his time looking Jemma over, appreciating the effort she’d put into getting ready. It wasn’t that Fitz believed for one second she’d dressed for him, or that she looked better in a sundress and heels than she did in her day-to-day outfits, but he enjoyed knowing she’d opted to give him the privilege of seeing this side of her. Perhaps that was why he said what he did next. “You know, tha’s twice now we’ve mentioned vacation, which means I have t’ ask… when are we goin’?”

Jemma knew Fitz could be charming when he wanted to be, but she hadn’t realized just how susceptible she’d be if he turned it on her. Combined with his admiring stare, she felt her cheeks - and the rest of her body - warm a bit, flushed and pleased. Thankfully the sun was setting outside, orange light filtering through the windows, to hide the blush on her fair skin. 

“I’d love to go back,” she admitted, focusing on the conversation again and trying not to let him get her too flustered. “But it’s awfully expensive. Just the airfare to Kenya alone would probably be a couple thousand dollars each, plus the cost of traveling to the preserve and staying there however long.” Her family had stayed nearly three weeks between projects and she’d never thought to ask how much it cost. Both her mum and dad came from money and it had simply never been a question when she was growing up to ask because it had never been an issue. It hadn’t been until she’d joined SHIELD and decided to make a go of it on her own that Jemma had really become cognizant of what things cost. Thankfully, living rough all those years meant she could easily be frugal and live on necessities only. 

Although, she did really, really miss traveling so often. 

Fitz didn’t miss the way her gaze turned downward or the way the corners of her mouth just barely curled upward, and he found that he was inordinately pleased with himself. He didn’t flirt often and it was nice to see that it could sway Jemma even a little bit. 

“So, we’ll star’ savin’ now, then. Or we’ll go somewhere a bi’ closer t’ home.” It might have been crazy or too impulsive, but he found himself caught up in the idea. Until he’d come to the United States for Uni, the furthest he’d ever traveled had been from Glasgow to London. The thought of going somewhere, particularly going somewhere with Jemma, was almost unbearably appealing. Before he could get too caught up, though, he noticed Jemma’s slight hesitation, and tried to curb his obvious enthusiasm a bit. “Tha’ is, if you wan’. We dinnae have t’ go anywhere if you think i’s a bad idea.” 

“It’s not that it’s a bad idea. But our rent is rather dear. I don’t know about you, but there’s not much left over after that and paying the other bills to put a lot away for a vacation,” Jemma said, thinking of the practicalities as always. “We’d really have to think about budgets and where we can really afford to go without putting it all on credit cards. I’d rather avoid that if at all possible.” This was more like any other conversation they’d ever had, with Fitz having wild ideas and Jemma reining him in, and it made her smile. Some things never changed. 

Biting at her lip, Jemma considered the thought of vacation with Fitz further. She’d have gone with him even before this whole dating idea, but she very much liked the potential for a more romantic getaway. If the rest of this evening went well, it was a distinct possibility. 

Fitz let the idea drop out of their conversation, turning instead to more mundane topics like work and mutual acquaintances as their entrees arrived. Slowly but surely, they worked their way through their plates, each stealing a bit from the other as the wine dwindled. By the time he asked the waiter for the check, he was feeling pleasantly flushed, and given the pink tinging Jemma’s cheeks, he guessed she was, too. Bill paid and everything settled, Fitz slipped out of his chair, pulling out Jemma’s and catching her hand to lead her back downstairs and out into the spring evening. 

Finally on his feet, the engineer could feel his legs had gone a bit wobbly, and tightened his grip on Jemma’s hand in response, attempting to help her keep her balance as much as he was trying to keep his. “Where t’, Jem?” He bumped his shoulder against hers and grinned down at her. He’d happily trail after her, no matter which direction she chose. 

Once they were out on the wharf, Jemma shifted her hold to lace her fingers through Fitz’. Although she was a little drunk, Jemma was able to keep her balance well enough if they walked slowly. And since there wasn’t any set plan or a rush to be anywhere, she was content to settle in at Fitz’ side and slowly stroll down the waterfront, back toward Pier 39. Her original plan, if they’d stayed closer to home, had been for miniature golf. Even though she knew with 100% certainty that Fitz, with his knowledge of physics and geometry, would have beaten her without even trying, it would have been fun. 

Instead, she had the pleasure of tugging him past the cruise tour boats and followed the barks of sea lions out along the pier to where there were platforms covered in piles of the furry mammals. There were lights set up so they could still be seen at this time in the evening and Jemma beamed as she caught sight of a pup and pointed it out to Fitz. “Look! Babies!” she exclaimed, eagerly tugging him closer to the rail so she could get a better look. 

He allowed her to tow him along, utterly taken by the childlike glee that was so plainly written on Jemma’s face. Fitz followed her extended finger, watching the pup shadow its mother for a moment or two before his attention was drawn back to something more interesting, namely Jemma. Even with the tourists that were still milling about at this time of night, he only had eyes for the biochemist, charmed by the way her eyes glowed in the soft yellow light. 

Fitz glanced away when she looked up at him, thankful that his blush could be explained away by the brisk wind coming off the water, and opted to press in against her instead under the pretense of wanting a better view. They lingered for a few moments, watching the sea lions get ready to bed down for the night, until Fitz grew tired of sharing Jemma with the tourists. With a gentle tug on their still-joined hands, he led her further down the pier, away from the lights and the thickest part of the crowd. 

As they rounded the outer stretch of the promenade, they stumbled across a lone busker playing a saxophone. It may have been a bit too twee, but Fitz was overcome by the impulse. Using his hold on her hand, he tugged Jemma in to face him and murmured, “Dance wit’ me?”

Jemma had only just settled in to watch for a bit when Fitz drew her away from the railing. Puzzled but game, she followed him further down the pier, following the pathway to the far end where the shops and restaurants ended and there was only a wide panoramic view of the bay - not that she could see much but the lights. The sound of saxophone music was an unexpected surprise, more so when Jemma recognized the old song. She’d only just started to sway along, a little drunkenly, with the lilting rhythm, when Fitz drew her close. 

Her heart gave an involuntary patter at his words, which were so very unexpected. Fitz had never struck her as being a romantic, but he’d clearly meant it. His hands settled at Jemma’s hips, warm through the thin layers of her sundress, and drew her into an impromptu dance. Jemma couldn’t quite lay her head on his shoulder in her heels, but she settled for leaning into Fitz, her cheek laid against his and letting him lead her in slow, swaying circles. 

Confident that she’d keep moving with him, Fitz regretfully took one of his hands from her hips and slid it up, over her waist and arm to find her hand and tuck it against his chest. They were both feeling the wine a little too much for what they were doing to be called dancing, but he enjoyed the simple opportunity to be this close to Jemma. Slowly the melody became clear to him, and recognizing the tune as one his mother had enjoyed, Fitz found himself humming along into Jemma’s ear.

The heels Jemma was wearing nearly equalized their height, so when he dropped his chin, Fitz found himself nuzzling against her cheek. The thought that it’d be easy to turn his head and find her lips with his own flitted across his mind, sending his stomach somersaulting pleasantly. He wondered briefly what it would be like, if she’d still taste of wine and if she’d whimper against his mouth… He’d never entertained those kinds of thoughts about Jemma, but now that he had, Fitz was finding he really didn’t want to give them up. 

One song bled into another, and he gladly kept them swaying, not wanting to have to let her go. Eventually, though, the busker began to pack his things and Fitz regretfully relinquished his hold on her. “Thank you for th’ dance,” he whispered as he brushed a quick kiss against her cheek. 

Jemma let herself fall into a bit of a daze, thrilled and more than a little dumbstruck by this unexpected side to her best friend. Fitz dated often enough, she knew he couldn’t be too terribly awkward with women, but she’d never seen him really flirt or fuss over anyone, especially not her. Discovering that there was a secret romantic streak in him, the kind of truly sweet and yet unaffected romance that led to dancing in the dark on piers, had Jemma wondering what else she didn’t know about him. And what else he might be exceptionally good at that she’d never considered before. 

Kissing was on her mind, too, but it didn’t seem like the right moment. Jemma knew she was still a little tipsy and if that’s where things were heading she wanted to be fully sober and aware to experience it for the first time. Fitz finally drew back from her as the musician finally drew his last song to a close and Jemma fumbled after Fitz to catch his hand again. Part of her didn’t want to let him get too far from her, the other just liked the warmth of his hand in hers, but both reasons made her reach for him. 

The next little while was spent wandering Pier 39 and then down a quieter stretch of the Embarcadero. Once they got to another populated area, there was an ice cream parlor and Jemma grinned. “Dessert? My treat, since you picked up dinner.” 

Part of Fitz wanted to protest her offer. Typically on a first date he preferred to pay, even though he knew the thinking behind his rationale was practically archaic by today’s standards and would likely upset Jemma if he voiced them. He also remembered his own brief ping of hurt when she had hesitated outside of Alioto’s, and instead gave her a bright smile. “Sure, lass. Ice cream sounds good.”

They took their cones to go and with fingers still entwined wandered further toward the Ferry Building, leaving the tourists behind them as they went. Fitz tried his level best to focus on the Neapolitan ice cream in his cone and not the sounds Jemma was making. He knew she wasn’t purposefully letting out those contented little hums with each lick of her soft serve swirl, but he also couldn’t help the places they were making his mind go. The engineer tried to shoot her a questioning look, only to find that his plan backfired on him rather spectacularly as he watched Jemma lick a long line up the side and over the top of her cone. 

Looking away quickly - who wanted to be the creep staring at their date as she ate ice cream? - Fitz coughed and tightened his fingers around hers and tugged her over to his side so he could get his arm around her shoulders. “Ice cream was a good choice. Thanks, Jemma.” 

Jemma wasn’t oblivious to the way Fitz kept sneaking glances at her - she’d been glancing over at him all evening too. It was so easy to be with him, effortless, the same way their friendship had grown. Even when they bickered in the lab, there had never been a question of it being something that would break them. And while there hadn’t been any of that tonight, Jemma still felt the same way. If this was where they were headed, it was reassuring to know that it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. It was only a new side of themselves they were finally letting the other see. 

The steady patter of conversation eased off into a comfortable silence as Fitz drew her over to the railing beside the Ferry Building and out of the pedestrian traffic. Jemma happily let him draw her in against his side as she finished off the last of her ice cream. She was disappointed he hadn’t kissed her yet, but she also suspected Fitz was worried about being too forward. 

Given that she was already thinking about making the first move, looking over to find Fitz had a bit of ice cream lingering at the corner of his mouth was too good an opportunity to waste. Jemma leaned across the space between them and licked the bit of cream from the corner of his mouth, drawing back with an impish smile and her bottom lip caught in her teeth. If he didn’t take that hint… As much as she’d enjoyed tonight, this simply wasn’t going to work long term. 

Fitz’ eyes went wide at the feeling of Jemma’s tongue darting out to skim over the corner of his mouth, and he nearly broke his neck turning to look at her. If they’d had a bit more wine, he might mistake her actions for Jemma simply being drunk and goofy… but he knew his friend. She could hold her liquor, and there was no way that was a mistake. 

Squaring up to face her, Fitz could feel the corners of his mouth curl upward as he brought a hand up to cup her face, his thumb brushing slowly over her cheekbone. Jemma tried to hold his gaze, but he could see each time her eyes flicked down to his mouth and back up. Shock gave way to confidence, and using the hand he’d laid on her cheek, Fitz pulled her close to lay a slow, lingering kiss against her mouth. 

Jemma nearly laughed at the dumbfounded look on his face at first, but when Fitz’ fingers brushed her cheek, blue eyes intent and focused, her amusement abruptly faded and was replaced with eager anticipation. Between that and the way he was staring at her, Jemma couldn’t hold his gaze and saw by the further shift in his expression that he’d noticed that, too. Damned Scot, she thought, half exasperated and half affectionate. He was always more observant than she gave him credit for, and at the most awkward times. 

When he kissed her though… Jemma’s fingers settled at his waist, leaning in further. Not for the first time that night, Jemma regretted waiting so long to ask him on a date. Granted, he probably wouldn’t have kissed anything like this if she’d caught him when they were seventeen… Then again, up until earlier she would have guessed her adorably awkward best friend hadn’t kissed anyone before he’d gotten to SciTech, much less snuck off with girls to abandoned warehouses. She couldn’t even bring herself to be jealous of any of them, because Fitz had still ended up here with her. 

It felt like far too soon when he drew back, and Jemma followed reflexively, making a little sound of disappointment. Instead of kissing him though, Jemma took advantage of the extra height from her heels and pressed her forehead against Fitz’, feeling dizzy. “Took you long enough,” she whispered, the words nearly caught in the breeze off the bay.

Faint as they were, Fitz still caught Jemma’s tone, breathless and a little dazed. Between that and her nearness, his distinctly male ego reared its head, interest fully piqued. There was something about hearing Jemma use that tone that affected him powerfully, and it only served to reinforce his desire to be as near to her as he possibly could. 

He brushed his nose against hers as the hand that had been on her cheek further wound its way into her hair while his other slipped beneath her jacket to find the curve of her waist. He pulled Jemma flush against him, smirking when he heard her quick intake of breath. “I suppose I should star’ on makin’ tha’ up t’ you, hmm?” he teased, brushing the barest hint of a kiss at the corner of her mouth before withdrawing once more. “Any ideas on how I could go about tha’, lass?”

Fitz had plenty of his own to be sure, but he couldn’t resist teasing Jemma the slightest bit. 

That little smirk made it very clear that Fitz knew exactly what he’d just done, and Jemma couldn’t let him get away with being quite that cocky, even if that one short kiss had rocked her down to her core. “Berk. Stop talking. Start kissing,” Jemma muttered bossily, closing the scant distance between them to kiss him this time. Her fingers dug into his waist for a moment, but soon enough they were twined around Fitz, snug and set to resist if he tried to back away from her. 

Jemma had long since grown accustomed to going after things she wanted, and it was a relief and a revelation to realize that what she wanted was Fitz. He’d been right in front of her all this time, but even her genius brain hadn’t caught on that he was everything she’d ever wanted for herself. Someone who wasn’t intimidated by her, challenged her, but wasn’t above admitting he was wrong. Someone who would watch out for her during the rare times when Jemma couldn’t take care of herself. Who’d be a partner and not resent the time she spent on her work. 

Discovering this new Fitz, who could be all of those things plus teasing and flirtatious and attractive - and a really good kisser, felt sort of like Christmas to Jemma. An unexpected gift. Drawing herself out of her thoughts and focusing on him, Jemma lost herself in kissing Fitz until someone walking by - drunk, most likely - catcalled at them. Realizing they were still in a rather public spot, even if they were out of the way, Jemma blushed pink and drew Fitz back up the Embarcadero, toward a quieter area.

It was growing chilly as true night fell and she shivered along the way. Her sundress was adorable and she loved how she looked in it, but her legs were very much bare and exposed to the slowly dropping temperature. 

Fitz liked the bossy little tone she put one when demanding his kisses, and happily complied, scraping his teeth across her bottom lip and soothing the ache with his tongue by turns. With Jemma pressed against him, he understood for the first time what it meant to have the world drop away. He’d never experienced it before, but kissing Jemma… if seventeen year old him had known how sweet it’d be to kiss his lab partner, he never would have let the opportunity wait until now. 

He was beginning to think of other, more creative ways he could drive them both a little wild without breaking any public indecency laws (ending their date in jail was not an option) when the drunken sot’s rather lewd suggestion of what he’d do in Fitz’ place broke his concentration. The Scot pulled away and turned, ready to tell him to fuck off, when he felt Jemma’s fingers press in against his hip, calming his sudden flare of temper. In the long run, he supposed it didn’t matter what one drunk on the Embarcadero thought, not when he was the one that actually got to hold Jemma when all was said and done. 

Looking properly contrite, Fitz allowed her to lead him away, although he did trail a few steps behind. He was finding it a tad uncomfortable to walk quite as quickly at the moment, but he was afforded a rather nice view of Jemma’s bare legs for his trouble. He had wanted to take his time enjoying it, however, he caught sight of her shiver nearly immediately. Chiding himself silently for opting to forego a jacket - he’d have to remember for next time if they went out at night again - he picked up his pace so he could tuck Jemma beneath his arm and haul her in. He couldn’t envelop her in warmth entirely, but at least this way he could defend her at least a bit from the chill. 

“You ready t’ go home, baby girl? Freezin’ t’ death is an awfully poor way t’ end a date.” 

Jemma wasn’t expecting the tug of resistance and turned back toward Fitz just as he caught up and twined his arm around her. “No, I want-” she began, instinctively denying his suggestion to go home, but no sooner did she start to say it, Jemma realized it might be for the best. She was getting cold and they did have two buses and a train ride to get back over to their flat on the other side of the city. She was disappointed at not getting to make out with him on the secluded bench she’d spotted earlier and planned on dragging him back to. There was a perfectly good couch waiting at home, though, and Jemma could be both warm and comfortable in the process - without anyone catcalling, either. 

Changing her mind in an instant, Jemma tucked herself into Fitz’ hold, relishing the warmth that radiated off him. It wasn’t even that cold - it was spring in San Francisco, after all - but it was breezy enough to chill her skin. “Yes- Let’s go home,” she murmured, biting her lip again as her lips tried to curl up into another teasing smile. Jemma already had ideas in her head for once they got back to their flat, although she already knew she was going to stick by her ‘three date rule’. Perhaps it was silly to insist on, given she already lived with Fitz, but she also didn’t want to ruin anything by jumping in too fast. 

Jemma turned her head against Fitz’ shoulder to look across the Embarcadero and orient herself with the closest cross street, but still wasn’t sure which way to go. She drew back a little and motioned toward the street, “Where do we catch the bus back?” 

“I’s about three blocks over. C’mon.” Fitz directed them through the emptying, but never quite quiet, streets toward the first bus they’d need without relinquishing his hold on Jemma. It made for slow going, not that either of them minded. There was something freeing about being in the city, away from the SciOps campus… had they stayed closer to home, of course he would have been affectionate with Jemma, but it would have had a different flavor with their colleagues around. Even though it was only a few miles away, it felt more anonymous, like they could be stripped down versions of themselves instead of the FitzSimmons that had been built up in SHIELD lore over the years. 

They fortunately didn’t have long to wait for the bus, although it was terribly crowded. The pair of scientists paid their fare and jostled their way toward the back of the bus. Even though both he and Jemma were slight, they had trouble finding room, although Fitz eventually was able to find a bit of breathing room. He tugged Jemma in front of him so she could get a hold on to the stanchion, and slipped his own arms around her waist. “I’s a little cramped,” he whispered in her ear as the bus jerked away from the curb, “bu’ we dinnae have t’ be on this one too long. Jus’ a few stops.”

“It’s okay,” she responded, teasingly reminding him that it wasn’t her first time in a big city. “It’s not like I’ve never been on a crowded bus or train before. It happened rather often in London.” Tipping her head back against Fitz’ shoulder, Jemma left a kiss on his jaw. He was cute, being so concerned about her, but she was fine really. 

Several blocks later, Jemma straightened from her comfortable spot leaned against Fitz to follow his nudge toward the door. Tottering down the steps and off the bus in her heels, Jemma grumbled under her breath at her lack of foresight. Next time they went on a date this far downtown, she was bringing a bigger bag so she could tuck a pair of flats into it. She curled her hand around Fitz’ elbow, wanting the point of contact, but also for balance on the steep hillside as they crossed over to wait for the next bus. 

The street here was less harried than it had been near the Embarcadero, this block more residential than commercial. Jemma sighed contentedly into that quiet as she perched on the edge of a bench, happy to be off her feet. “So… Baby girl?”

Fitz had been leaning off of the curb, looking down the street for their bus in the hopes of getting home as quickly as possible. Jemma wasn’t the only one with more kissing on her mind, and he was quietly reminding himself not to get too far ahead of himself. This was a first date, after all. Her quiet question drew his attention back to her, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he sidled over to hover near her knees. 

Even in the dim light, he could see that Jemma seemed more curious than upset, and Fitz found the corners of his mouth curling upward as he explained, “I’ jus’ felt righ’.” He gave a small shrug and sat on the bench next to her, hands coming out of his pockets so he could rub between her shoulder blades. “Jus’ kinda slipped ou’, you know? I-” he hesitated, licking his lips while he gathered his thoughts. “If you really dinnae like i’, I dinnae have t’ use i’, Jemma.”

Jemma looked back at him over her shoulder, her attention caught by the diffident note in his voice. It was rare anymore for Fitz to sound shy around her, but the bashful little smile on his face told her it was more uncertainty than true shyness. “It’s not that I don’t like it, but I don’t know how I feel about a pet name like that in a more public situation.” 

His fingers stilled on her back and Jemma wanted to be sure he understood that it wasn’t the name or that it was coming from him, but rather her own reticence about her personal life being a public thing. “So let’s keep that just for us?” she suggested quietly with a little smile of her own. “I’m not one for splashing my relationships around for everyone to see and comment on anyway.” 

Fitz’ breath caught at her use of the word “relationship,” ridiculously pleased that they both seemed to be on the same page. Not that it was that shocking after how long they’d known each other, but it still gave him a giddy feeling he hadn’t had when it came to women in a long time. Sitting forward, he caught her chin in his fingertips to kiss her. It was short and sweet, but that didn’t abate his grin any. 

“Tha’s fine by me. We dinnae need all o’ SciOps in our business anyway.” Perhaps it was the influence of working for an international spy agency, or simply because everyone was bored while waiting for their experiments to wrap, but SHIELD scientists were easily some of the nosiest people Fitz had ever met. And that included his mother. 

Just as he was about to sit back against the bench and settle in for the wait, the bus appeared over the crest of the hill. Fitz pushed himself off of the planks of wood and extended a hand down to Jemma, helping her keep her balance as it rolled to a stop in front of them. This one wasn’t packed, but seats were still scarce. Finding one at the back of the bus, Fitz nodded for Jemma to take it, only to be surprised as she pushed him into it and settled herself in place across his lap. Surprised as he may have been, he wasn’t stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth, instead opting to wrap his arms around her waist. If she wanted to sit there, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her get away. 

Pleased that Fitz understood her concerns so quickly, even though she wasn’t truly surprised, Jemma was still smiling when she climbed onto the bus and looked around for a seat. With her fingers still tangled with Fitz’, she followed him to the back and nudged him into the seat so she could settle across his lap. This would be a longer ride and he was silly to think that she’d make him stand the whole way. Besides, she was still chilled and Fitz was a human radiator. 

Fitz’ seat was next to a window, and Jemma turned sideways, putting her back against that with her arm curled lightly around Fitz’ neck and shoulders and her legs draped over his knee, careful not to kick the older woman sitting in the next seat. Jemma spent a moment fiddling with her dress, making sure the skirt was draped properly so she wouldn’t inadvertently flash anyone, but really she was content to be quiet for a bit. 

The lovely thing about her friendship with Fitz, and the potential relationship now, was that they’d known each other long enough and so well that silence wasn’t intimidating or something that needed to be filled. It was some time - after the bus had emptied off considerably - before Jemma spoke again, her fingers idly playing with the soft curls at Fitz’ neckline. “I rather think tonight has been a successful experiment, don’t you?” 

The fluttering hem of Jemma’s dress had drawn his attention, leaving Fitz studying her rather shapely legs instead of the city as the bus carried them home. Before long, he gave into the temptation to trace random patterns between the faint freckles dotting her knees, shapes morphing into equations and words that traveled down and around over her calves to her ankle before transitioning back during the return journey. Fitz was intrigued to learn that her legs were as soft as he’d suspected the other night, and was more than happy to have them occupy his attention while Jemma toyed with his hair. 

“I concur,” he replied with a smirk, hand stilling on her as their eyes met. He’d never been much of one for large public displays of affection, having rolled his eyes often enough at couples he’d deemed overly affectionate while out and about, but he couldn’t resist leaning in to rest his forehead against her cheek and simply giving in to the urge to be even nearer to her. “Truly successful experimentation requires replication, though, so th’ question is… will you le’ me take you ou’ again?” He didn’t expect her to say no, not really, but his stomach began to jump with his nerves while he waited for Jemma’s reply. 

Jemma had to resist giggling when his light touch tickled a bit, but it also woke nerves that weren’t usually particularly sensitive. His fingers were warm though and felt good against the lingering chill of her skin, which made her hesitate to say anything. She tipped her head to meet his when he leaned in, still surprised to find he was so openly affectionate. He’d gradually grown more comfortable with her over the last few years, and while he wasn’t averse to touching her somehow Jemma hadn’t expected this. It wasn’t even just the touching, it was the way he went about it. There was already such a comfort level between them that there wasn’t much hesitation, just an easy confidence that Jemma found terribly appealing. 

“Was that really a question?” Jemma asked, blinking in surprise at Fitz’ query, her fingers tightening slightly against the back of his neck. She’d just sort of assumed that there would be another one, given how well tonight had gone. His sudden bout of nerves were subtle but there if you knew what to look for, and Jemma did. “Silly Fitz,” she murmured affectionately, rubbing her palm further up into his hair and ruffling his curls. “I’ll be quite disappointed if there aren’t more dates in our future.” Jemma didn’t think she could really be much more direct than that. 

His gut unclenched and the corner of his mouth quirked upward as he pulled her a little more firmly against his torso. “I though’ you’d say yes,” he conceded, “bu’ i’s still only polite t’ ask.” Fitz had never been the sort to demand a woman’s attention - he’d seek it, yes, but never demand - and he believed that regardless of how he felt about how a date had gone, it was only right to give one’s partner the right to say yes or no instead of simply assuming. When one became comfortable enough to make assumptions, that was when things were missed, important things, and he never wanted to do that to Jemma. 

The rest of the journey home was uneventful, with the scientists passing it mostly in silence as they transferred from the bus to their train. They traded amazed glances, and a few kisses when no one else seemed to be looking, their fingers linked all the while. Fitz was particularly pleased by the fact that, despite the train car being relatively empty, Jemma still opted to perch in his lap. It was such a tiny thing, but one he was acutely aware that he’d nearly missed out on, and perhaps that was the reason he was so thrilled by it. 

They meandered back to their building, Fitz purposefully taking his time on the hills so Jemma wouldn’t have to struggle in her heels, through their lobby, and onto the ancient lift. It rattled its way up to their floor, pinging softly as it dumped them out. It wasn’t until he stood before their door, keys in hand, that it really dawned on him. He’d gone on a date with Jemma, and it had gone far better than any other date he’d been on in the past few years. If that were the case for her, too, then maybe… 

He glanced down at Jemma and shook himself a bit. Thinking that way was getting ahead of himself. As much as he might want her, there was no good that would come from rushing this. Simply put, it would be a disservice to them both. That thought firmly in mind, Fitz turned the key in the lock, opening the door, and stepped back so Jemma could slip in ahead of him. 

Jemma was grateful for Fitz’ thoughtfulness as they returned home, her feet aching and sore. Stupid shoes, she thought to herself. Instruments of torture. And even though she knew just how bad they were for her body, she wore them anyway because she liked the extra height and the way they made her legs look so much better. By the way Fitz had kept his hands on them most of the way home, he’d definitely noticed, and Jemma couldn’t quite regret that at the moment. 

She hummed happily as they reached the door, Jemma sliding past him to get inside. Her first order of business was getting those heels off, picking at the buckles until she could set the shoes aside and pad around in her bare feet. Of course, that wasn’t counting on Fitz catching her around the waist and backing her up against the door no sooner than she straightened back up. Jemma didn’t even have to ask what he was doing - the intent was written all over his face before it blurred from proximity and his mouth landed on hers. 

Before this week, she’d never given much thought to the way Fitz’ passionately opinionated side might express itself physically, with a woman. Well, perhaps when she noticed his hands now and again, but Jemma had always shoved those musings aside fast, before she could dwell on them. But here in this moment, when Fitz crowded her up against the door, cupped his hands around her jaw and took over, leaving Jemma feeling like she was melting into a puddle on the spot… Jemma shivered again, but it definitely wasn’t from the cold. Reaching up, she twined her arms around Fitz’ neck, her body arched into his, and gave as good as she got. 

Fitz really had intended to take things slowly, to just come in and see what might happen… that was, until he was treated to the sight of Jemma bending over to undo her shoes. He wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t help but take notice, and once she stood up anything that might have remotely resembled self-control went out the window. He wanted her, pressed tight against him as he plundered her mouth, and took what he wanted. 

Once he felt her arms wrap around his neck, Fitz’ hands slid down to her waist, easily finding the flare of her hips and using his grip to haul Jemma against him. Any embarrassment he may have felt over Jemma knowing how she’d affected him was long gone, and he even went as far as to grind against her when he felt her teeth scrape against his lower lip. With a low groan, he pulled back just enough to catch a glimpse of Jemma’s face. She was smirking back at him, whiskey eyes clearly pleased with herself. If that was the way she wanted to play it…

Freeing up one of his hands, Fitz worked her jacket off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He hadn’t realized just how scant the straps of her dress were, but he couldn’t help the way his own mouth stretched into what could only be described as a smirk. Brow arched, he leaned in and began to press hot, open mouthed kisses from the corner of her jaw down to her pulse point. 

Jemma was pleased with herself, mainly because she felt like she’d finally wised up and realized what had been right in front of her this whole time. Finding out that there was a bit more aggressive and terribly attractive bit of Fitz that she’d never have guessed existed was simply a bonus. When he helped her out of her jacket and let his mouth start wandering though… 

She whimpered once and bit her lip sharply to hold back a second one. Her neck and collarbone had always been sensitive and the way Fitz was working on them was going to quickly drive her crazy. Her breathing picked up, just touched with sound, and Jemma’s fingers found their way to Fitz’ tie, tugging it off and dropping it at their feet. His collar was next, giving Jemma access to tease and torment him the same way. 

Moving to latch onto Fitz’ neck, her teeth scraping against the cord revealed by the angle he was leaned at to get to her, Jemma couldn’t help the urge to nip softly. She immediately - sort of - regretted it though as Fitz did something against her skin that had her crying out softly, his fingers playing with the thin straps of her dress. She drew back, her head thunking softly against the heavy door, trying to catch her breath. “Leopold Alexander Fitz,” Jemma said, almost scolding, but too affectionate for that, “Are you trying to seduce me?” 

Jemma’s words took a long minute to sink in, what with the way Fitz found himself distracted by the soft whimpers he could draw from her throat whenever he scraped his teeth against her collarbone, as well as the way her breasts seemed to be straining out of her dress thanks to the panting breaths she was currently taking. He had never necessarily doubted himself when it came to women - his cousins had made sure he’d ample opportunity to practice, after all - but he’d never expected it with Jemma. It was intense to say the least, and Fitz knew without a doubt that had she demanded anything of him in that moment, he’d do it, no questions asked. 

Eventually though, Jemma worked her fingers into his hair and gave a little tug, forcing him to cease his attentions to her neck. She looked thoroughly kissed, a flush high in her cheeks and her lips swollen, leaving Fitz with a puffed chest. He’d done that, and that knowledge only fueled the cocky grin he wore as he nuzzled her jaw. “Tha’ depends…” he teased, lips dancing over the delicate skin of her collarbone and venturing down toward the vee of her cleavage, “I’s i’ workin’?” 

She’d asked, but then Fitz delayed his answer in favor of paying further attention to her and she was dazed by the time he got around to it. This was going to be nothing but trouble, Jemma realized with a shock. They already lived together, and it was already rather clear they were going to have trouble keeping their hands off each other. Who knew that her Fitz - dorky, hilarious, sweet and cute Fitz - could be downright sexy when he wanted to be? The problem was that neither of them could afford for them to burn themselves up in the heat and hormones of a new relationship. And Fitz’ seduction tactics were working far too well. 

“Maybe,” Jemma replied, voice hoarse and giving Fitz the instinctively teasing answer she would have any other time. His hands wandered then, nudging the straps of her dress off her shoulders along with his mouth drifting further down her chest, bringing Jemma back to her original thought. This was moving much faster than she’d like, no matter what her body and hormones would like, and she dragged herself up out of the fuzzy haze of want. “Wait. Fitz...” she said reluctantly. Drawing her hands back, she crossed an arm over her chest to keep her dress in place until she could pull the straps back up. The other found its way to Fitz’ jaw, urging him into safer territory. Jemma’s voice firmed up then, still soft, but sure, “No. Slow down.” 

Of all the things he’d been expecting to hear slip from Jemma’s mouth, that hadn’t been one of them, and Fitz was torn between his male pride being a tad wounded and understanding. Dating Jemma - honestly dating, not the few casual dates and a roll in the hay he’d fallen into since graduating - was a different creature entirely. Cutting other women out had never wounded him, while the very thought of having to extricate him from Jemma was painful. He pulled away just enough to catch a glimpse of her eyes, and the pleading look he saw decided him. 

It took some effort, but Fitz relinquished his hold on her so he could gently skim his fingers up Jemma’s arms and set the straps of her dress back in place, sighing as he did so. That done, he lowered his forehead so it rested against hers, eyes closed as the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “Sorry, lass. Go’ a bi’ ahead o’ myself.” His pulse was still pounding in his ears, making it difficult to be sure if he had really said anything at all, but when he cracked his eyes he was greeted by the sight of Jemma’s smile. If she wasn’t upset by his misstep, he saw no reason to be, either. 

The best news as far as he was concerned was that Jemma hadn’t pushed him away, her hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, effectively holding him in place. Knowing she still wanted him to be there with her reassured him, and Fitz slipped his fingers between hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. 

“We both did,” Jemma said softly. She leaned up and rubbed the tip of her nose against Fitz’, affectionate and warm. She’d caught the blip of insecurity when his eyes met hers, knowing he’d hate the idea of being ‘that guy’ and pushing her further than she’d wanted to go. Jemma wouldn’t hold that against him since it wasn’t as if she’d given him any sign of wanting to stop. As good as everything felt, it wasn’t as if she really wanted to stop, but it was for the best. This was only their first date, after all. “I probably should have mentioned it, but I have a rule about going too far on the first few dates,” she explained, then her tone turned teasing again. “So congratulations, you successfully made me forget all about it for a little while.” 

She liked the press of him against her, warm and solid. It was comforting, especially now that she was back to her more accustomed height next to him, and Jemma felt small and secure there. Considering their options, she stroked her thumb over his cheekbone and gave him another little smile. “Let’s both take a few minutes to calm down. I’m going to go change. Meet you back on the couch in 10?” It was late, edging past midnight, but Jemma wasn’t the least bit sleepy, especially not with that rush from his kisses still zinging through her body. 

He nodded lazily before giving her one last, chaste kiss and taking a step back so Jemma could peel herself off the door when she wanted. Fitz couldn’t help but give her another appreciative looking over, his male ego humming in contentment as he took in her mussed hair, swollen lips and still slightly dazed look. He’d done that, and Jemma was willing to give him the opportunity to do it again. 

Fitz waited for Jemma to move first, happy to watch the swish of her skirt as he trailed after her down their short hall to their rooms. Once he had shut the door to his room, Fitz leaned against the cool particle board and took a deep breath trying to will himself, specifically certain portions of his anatomy, to calm down. Never one to tidy, now he took his time as he stripped down, putting his clothes away instead of leaving them on the floor as he changed from his jeans and vest for a pair of sweatpants and a soft cotton t-shirt. 

Poking his head into the hall, he realized he’d finished before Jemma and padded back to the front door to tidy a bit. He hung her jacket up on the coat rack, nudged her shoes into the tray near the door, and fetched his own tie. He tossed it onto his bed then went back to the living room to sprawl out on the sofa and wait for Jemma. 

Jemma blushed under Fitz’ perusal and slipped away to her room. She could practically feel his eyes on her and was a little relieved when she was able to latch her door behind her and just breathe. Her entire body felt too warm still, and indeed, when she looked in the mirror her cheeks were pink and flushed, eyes bright and lips swollen. She looked like exactly what she was, a woman who had just been thoroughly snogged and mussed up by a man. 

Drawing in a breath to brace herself, Jemma busied herself changing into her yoga shorts and an old, nearly threadbare t-shirt. Her feet ached, and peering at them revealed deep red imprints in her fair skin from the straps. Perhaps she’d talk Fitz into rubbing them for her, she mused, fussing about her room. By the time she’d brushed and braided her hair, and debated whether or not to leave her bra on, nine minutes had passed and Jemma glanced at her closed bedroom door. If she was going to be comfortable, it needed to go, and she hurriedly stripped it out from under the shirt. 

She slipped out of her room and into a silent flat and couldn’t help her smile when she found Fitz on the couch. He’d tossed his arm up over his eyes, sprawled over the length of the cushions. He looked so comfortable, and it reminded Jemma that whatever else he was becoming, he was already her best friend. That hadn’t changed - but any hesitation about putting herself in his personal space was pretty much gone after this evening. Jemma crawled over the arm of the couch, grinning when his eyes met hers, and playfully dropped down squarely on top of him. “Hi,” she said, laughing a little at his expression. “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to make myself at home.” 

With her being barefoot, Fitz didn’t hear Jemma as she slipped into their living room, and with his eyes covered the only warning he received was the slight shaking of the sofa before she dropped her weight atop him. With soft oof, the Scot opened his eyes and grinned down at her, his arms automatically wrapping around her shoulders and holding her close. “By all means, jus’ give me some warnin’ nex’ time.” 

Jemma stuck her tongue out at him in response, drawing a chuckle from Fitz as they both settled further into the cushions. Like her, he was still feeling wide awake despite the late hour, and his fingers began to trace over her back in a subconscious attempt to dispel some of that energy. It had the added benefit of causing Jemma to pillow her head against his chest, giving Fitz the perfect opportunity to observe her, and he found that while he’d very much appreciated the dress she’d worn earlier, he liked this look better. It was more intimate, a side of her that only he got to see, and it drew a rush of affection that the engineer hadn’t expected. A moment later, he realized why. 

“Hey… this looks familiar,” he whispered, plucking at the shoulder of the shirt with a grin. “I though’ I’d lost this one durin’ our firs’ move.” 

She did exactly what she said and found that Fitz, despite being slender and edging on lanky if she didn’t get enough food into him, made for a rather comfortable resting place. Crossing her arms over his chest, Jemma propped her chin on them, eyeing Fitz from close range. Confused for a moment by his comment, she shifted to see what shirt she’d grabbed and smirked. “Lost? Nope. I’ve got a few of your old shirts in my dresser. It was getting too small on you anyway, so I snagged it.” 

And it had served her well in the two years since she’d appropriated it, becoming a favored sleepwear item. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it before now. It’s not like I’ve never worn it in front of you,” Jemma pointed out curiously. Feeling rather shy at having those blue eyes fixed on her from such close range, she glanced down, picking at Fitz’ own shirt. “I think I’ve still got a jumper or two as well, although it’s not nearly so cold here as it was in Boston at SciTech.” 

“Give i’ another year or two an’ you’ll find a reason t’ wear ‘em again.” Fitz’ hand drifted up Jemma’s back and into her hair, slowly working over her nape beneath her braid. He felt more than heard the little moan it drew from her and answered with his own contented hum. “If they keep us ou’ here much longer, our blood will thin eventually.” Fitz huffed to himself as his eyes drifted shut. Whenever that happened, he’d never hear the end of it from his family.

“I will say this,” he added, voice low and lazy as his brain began to drift, “tha’ shirt looks much better on you than i’ ever did on me. Wouldnae mind you stealin’ my clothes more often…” Fitz allowed the statement to hang there, just waiting to see what Jemma herself would think of the idea. 

“Oh, I wore them a few times this winter,” Jemma said with another laugh, amused by Fitz’ reaction to her stealing his clothes. It seemed to be a thing with men, although probably a possessive one, about liking to see their clothes on women. Oddly, though, Jemma didn’t mind the idea so much if it was Fitz. The thought of her wearing his clothes around him - and letting him peel them off her - flitted through her mind just about the same moment that he started rubbing the back of her neck. Between both things, Jemma couldn’t help the quiet sound she made. 

Jemma was slowly relaxing, her body accepting that despite getting revved up earlier she wasn’t going to cave and let Fitz follow up on his actions. Instead she shifted her arms, letting them drape down on either side of Fitz and scooted up a bit. When Jemma settled again her head was on Fitz’ shoulder, her nose turned in against his neck where she promptly left an affectionate little nuzzle. “Besides, what do I need jumpers for if I can have you warm me up? You’re like a walking radiator,” she teased, returning to the prior conversation. 

“Tha’s all you see me as, hmm?” he teased as he allowed Jemma to settle into her new position against him. The way she shifted had put her legs within reach, and Fitz couldn’t resist skimming the fingers of one hand down to her knee. He couldn’t get over how soft she was, and it only served to make him want to touch her all the more. “A walkin’ radiator,” he muttered, humor evident in his voice as he pressed a kiss to her temple, although his mind couldn’t help venturing down far more interesting, and decidedly less innocent, ways to keep her warm. 

“An’ may I ask jus’ wha’ I’ll be gettin’ for my services? Fair’s fair, Jemma Catherine.”

“Of course not-” Jemma began, before it sank in that he was teasing her. Between the warm, amused tone and the nearly ticklish sensation of his fingers on the back of her leg, she found herself giggling softly. “Oh, so that’s a service, and not a girlfriend privilege?” Jemma shot back, but her voice was soft and affectionate, even with her own teasing emphasis on certain words. “Rude. I suppose some sort of barter could be arranged though…” 

“What exactly were you thinking would be a fair trade?” she asked, and there was suddenly something in Jemma’s voice that was teasing in a whole different way; sultry but entirely uncalculated as her own ideas came to mind. 

Fitz' breath caught in his throat at her tone, his groin twitching in anticipation as Jemma's words filtered through his brain. He'd been thinking of relatively innocent things, like being let out of kitchen clean up every once in a while, but he had to admit that he liked what she seemed to be suggesting much better.

"Hmm," he hummed, pretending to think. "Le's see... These are nice." Fitz slipped the hand that had been on her neck to join its partner, resting high on the back of Jemma's thighs, just below the hem of her shorts. Feeling bold, he inches his fingers up to rest just below the stretchy material. "Wouldnae mind seein' 'em more often... And a few o' these as well." He'd been nuzzling down her cheek and kissed her as he finished speaking. He knew it was a new privilege, but kissing Jemma was already his favorite thing ever. Fitz would gladly do whatever she asked as long as she kept allowing him this.

Letting out another soft laugh, Jemma shook her head against Fitz’ shoulder. “Now, that’s not fair. You can’t count kisses as part of the barter system, not if we’re going to be giving and getting them anyway,” she said, her natural logic still cropping up even now. “And if you’re asking if I’ll show a bit more skin in general… That’s easy enough. Here at the flat only, and weather permitting, of course,” she bargained. To be honest, Jemma had gotten into the habit of tugging on t-shirts or pants before venturing out of her room and into their common areas. She was usually in less when she was in her room. With the shift from friendship to romance though, Jemma wasn’t as wary of making things awkward in their own home. 

“You know that’s going to make it even more important for you to help keep me warm, yeah?” Jemma lifted her head and whispered this last question almost directly into Fitz’ ear. She was starting to feel tired the more relaxed she got, but she was so pleased and hopeful and a bit thrilled by the evening’s events that she couldn’t help but keep their flirtation going. 

Jemma’s breath washed hotly over his neck, leaving Fitz’ resolve to behave himself in serious jeopardy. Her tone gave him a dozen ideas of what he could do to help keep her warm, and his fingers twitched against her legs as he resisted his body’s urge to give in to them. Despite her flirtatious tone, he knew Jemma was serious about sticking to her rule, and he didn’t really want to encourage her to break it, no matter how loudly his body might test his resolve. Still, when she threw down the gauntlet, though...

“I have a few ideas how t’ go about tha’, Jemma,” he whispered, mirroring her tone and spreading his palms wide on her thighs, and using his hold to pull her a bit closer. “Jus’ say th’ word an’ I would be happy t’ show you. I mean, tha’s wha’ a boyfriend does, righ’?” 

“Oh, so now you admit it’s a privilege and I don’t need to trade favors to get you to keep me warm?” Jemma gave him a playful poke in the ribs, giggling again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this carefree. She’d never dreamed that asking Fitz on a date would result in this easy step right over the line into romance. If she had, Jemma certainly would never have taken so long to try it. 

It wasn’t impossible for them to misunderstand each other at times, and they did bicker over science in the lab, but they had both figured out pretty fast that not talking to each other was the quickest way to muck things up. And Jemma had that on her mind when she sobered and nuzzled into Fitz’ neck, her nose in the hollow of his collarbone. “I’m glad you said yes.” 

He wasn’t sure what caused it, but he could feel the moment Jemma stopped feeling quite as relaxed and playful, and even the feeling of her nuzzling at his neck could distract him. It had never taken much for them to pick up on each other’s moods, and the engineer took his hands from her legs to frame her face instead so he could direct her to look at him squarely. 

Fitz couldn’t believe how quickly they had arrived in this place, tangled up in each other, relaxed and teasing because of the certainty of their future together. To think, he had nearly missed out on having this side of Jemma to himself; now, he’d be the only one to get to see the way she was with a (hopefully soon-to-be) lover, and he had every intention of maintaining that privilege until she decided she was done with him. 

“‘M glad you though’ t’ ask. I may have t’ send those idiots a thank you note. Never would have poured you tha’ glass an’ gotten you drunk enough t’ ask me in th’ firs’ place.” He stuck his tongue out at her and immediately chuckled at her response, turning the slightly serious air playful once more. “I mean i’, Jem. Tonigh’ was th’ bes’ date I’ve ever been on, an’ I know i’s because i’ was wit’ you. Thank you for tha’.”

Jemma was confused when Fitz urged her back up from his shoulder, worrying for a moment that she’d done or said something wrong. The way he cupped her face though, blue eyes meeting hers, told her this was something else though, and Jemma relaxed into his touch with a little sigh. Leaned up at an odd angle now, she shifted her own arms to brace herself, her hands coming up to cover his. 

His words made her scowl and wrinkle her nose, only to soften again when Fitz chuckled. The low sound accompanied by the vibration of it through his body and into hers had Jemma relaxing again in a moment, but it was his words that got to her. “Don’t thank me,” Jemma said immediately. “Somehow I think we’d have still gotten here eventually. We just- Had to get out of our own way. Or something. Tonight was wonderful. We should plan for another date - soon.” 

Her assertion that they would have gotten to this point anyway rang true, leaving Fitz nodding as she spoke. He knew he couldn’t imagine a life without Jemma in it, that he would always put her before anyone else, and if he had to venture a guess, he assumed she’d say the same about him. Those conditions would make it difficult for any relationship with an outsider thrive. In a way, they’d been dating all along; it had just taken them until now to realize it. 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday… Are you free durin’ th’ day?” 

Jemma startled, but then grinned, “Well. I did say soon, didn’t I?” Leaning down, she left a kiss on the tip of Fitz’ nose and nodded. “Tomorrow is good. It’s supposed to be warm and we haven’t gotten out much lately. Think on it. We can figure out what we want to do in the morning and make a plan.” It warmed her through to know that Fitz was so eager to spend more time with her. Even though they already spent the majority of their time in each other’s company, this was different. 

She already had an idea in mind, but Jemma figured sleeping on it might produce something else, and Fitz could very well suggest something good, too. Before she had a chance to say anything else, a wide yawn snuck up on her, and Jemma blushed, embarrassed as she pulled her face out of Fitz’ hold rather than yawn in close proximity to his face. “Sorry about that. I think it’s about time to settle in for the night.” 

“Tha’s all righ’, baby girl,” he said with a smile as she settled in. Fitz reluctantly let go of Jemma to reach up and tug the throw blanket off the back of the sofa, sloppily spreading it out over her back. It took him a minute to make sure she wouldn’t catch a chill, and only once he was satisfied did Fitz lie back himself. His fingers found their way to her back, rubbing idly in an attempt to soothe them both to sleep. It didn’t take long, and shortly after he felt Jemma’s breathing slip into a deep, even pattern, he himself drifted off to sleep. 

It hadn’t been the plan, to sleep on the couch with Fitz, but when he pulled the blanket down over them, clearly intending for her to stay there with him, Jemma couldn’t come up with a single reason to argue. And she wanted to stay anyway, so she didn’t try very hard. She only moved far enough to pillow her head on Fitz’ chest, draping her arms at his sides again, and quickly drifted off.


End file.
